Tommy Shot Soul
by PondWriter1300
Summary: Bullet wounds in your soul They are stuck with your blood flows pull A monster tries to save you His soul is pure and true He holds you if you have nightmares at night His grasp ever so tight Can he bring you back Or does it end with an empty bullet pack? Mob!Papyrus x reader


**Hi! A new fanfiction of mine! I hope you enjoy it. This going to be long term, unlike my last fic, because I haven't seen too many Mobtale/Mafiatale for Papyrus. Just to explain him a bit: based on the comic dub, Undertale Mob, yes, Papyrus is a bit of a cinnamon roll still but also bad ass. He is also sort of a fatherly figure to Frisk…**

 **Anyway, the song for this chapter is Lyre Le Temps- Looking Like This**

 **So you can imagine me, trying to figure out what** _ **type**_ **(pun) of Fanfiction. Critic me as much as you want! I learn from my mistakes. Enjoy Beauties!**

You walked down the sidewalk, your heels clicking against the pavement. You passed by random strangers in the street, none too kind. Drunks stumbled from a bar and hit on you. The good thing about being a mob boss is that you were always decked out in weapons. Your revolver was in the pocket of your pin-striped overalls, and your pocket knife hung openly from your hips. A pistol was fastened under your pant leg, as well.

"Hey Hunny -hic- wanna be mine tunight?" a drunkard talked after you, but you simply ignored him. He wasn't worth your time, and you had to make it to a gun deal, anyways. The man and his friends seemed to follow you. "Don' you dare ignore me, whore!" the drunkard breathed in your face after grabbing your arm. You smirked and grabbed his arm with your other hand, expertly squeezing so he would let go of yours, then grabbed his other arm and pushed it up his back, throwing him against the brick wall and successfully knocking him out. Another one of his friends tried to grab you, but you simply took hold of your revolver and cocked it at him. He stepped back, his hands up in defense.

"You wanna piece of this shit?" you asked, cracking your neck. He and the rest of his friends stumbled back then ran, their other comrade still lying on the concrete, dazed and groaning. You hurried your steps, the client a block away. You would've just driven, but you couldn't attract attention in your Packard. It was your beauty, your favorite car of most. It had a red trim, black as the solid color.

You reached the doors. James, your head scout nodded curtly in your direction. You nodded back and signaled for him to order his men to follow you with the money. It was an expensive hotel that your client had suggested. It had a large lobby, white silk curtains adorning large windows that looked across the city from a hill. The stairs up to the rooms were grand, gold painted railing flowed down to the main floor. It was bustling with people. You agreed to this fancy place, but not without extra precautions. They might try to stiff you and take your money while keeping their guns. A group had tried to do that once, but they soon regretted it. Let's just say that their house was ashes by the time the whole ordeal had been dealt with.

You stepped onto the royal red carpet, climbing up the stairs to the set room for the exchange. Room 96 they had said. The hall seemed to have a lack of eyes. Shady. You tapped one of the walls, testing its thickness. Yup, brick. It would muffle the sounds of gun shots if needed. You whispered your worries to James, and he nodded.

You told your men to go first, a Knight Knight named William stepping in first, gun in hand. He knocked on the door, peeking in to see if it was clear. He walked out and nodded, standing aside to let you in. You walked in, your hat tipped forward to hide your face. Shadows seemed the only thing that could hide your identity. You were a famed crime boss, and people would pay dearly if they messed with you. Of course, you needed a way to act like a damsel in distress once in awhile to get things done. You lit a cigar and studied your client. Two skeletons sat in front of you. The taller one had his dress shirt sleeves ridden up his forearms, his legs crossed. He wore gloves. He wore expensive shorter one sat quietly, his dress coat on, unlike is his partner, skeletal hands stuffed in seemed the most relaxed out of the two skeletons. Odd. You sat down, the plush seat of the sofa comfortable. Now you saw why they paid extra for the room. A bar was in the background, fully loaded with booze. The room was dark, soft light glowing, smoke from their cigars made the air thick. There seemed to be separate rooms for beds. You couldn't think why they would spend on much on a place that they were staying for only a night. It had been nonsensical, but then again, other crime bosses were usually stingy with their money. You smiled and looked up, revealing your beautiful face for the darkness of the shadows your fedora had cast. You had full lips, curves, and soft looking hair. The taller skeleton sat up, suddenly self-conscious. You laughed and took the cigar out of your mouth, ready to start negotiating. You could easily get what you wanted in Ebott city, you were running it of course.

The skeletons introduced themselves as Sans and Papyrus. "So I was thinking two-hundred for a crate of submachine guns. Specialized with magic, of course." You beckoned James over with a flick of your wrist, the case of money in his hands. If you needed, you had brought over two thousand dollars, if things got heated. You were desperate to get a hold of these guns. You had heard of them, and when you got a deal, you were willing to do anything to get a hold of them. The smaller skeleton shook his head.

"That sounds a little under our price. I hope you brought more money than that." his voice was a deep baritone. The taller skeleton shifted. The smile that had graced you face had left. The taller skeleton mentally cursed his brother for that. You looked quite bonnie with that smile. And they had plenty of cargo, and Sans was already blowing up the price. From what he had heard about your reputation, you took no bullshit from anyone. If you figured out that Sans was trying to be a bimbo, and fool her, the gods better save them. He could see that you were highly justified.

Sans wouldn't budge, he leaned back, extremely relaxed. Your smile returned. You'd finally found a pair that wouldn't succumb to your feminine charms. Step number two: Eye Candy tactic. You were sure that this was going to work. You had monster dealers before who were stubborn, and they found you attractive as well.

You leaned forward, your cleavage showing from the gap in your white dress shirt. Both of the skeletons cheekbones dusted orange and blue. Papyrus had to keep himself from jumping her.

You had hit a spot. They were very easy to see through -well for skeletons at least- because, in this age, men craved women. Most of the males today were egomaniacs if they had a pretty girl on their wing, they thought of themselves as the bee's knees. Hell, you used your assets for business strictly, you couldn't get attached to anyone. Life growing up in you father's mafia taught you that.

"How about four hundred dollars per crate?" You asked, blowing out smoke. It curled upwards, towards the ceiling.

"Why not? Pap, you good with that?" turned to his partner, but the taller skeleton would not respond. He looked at you, eyes fastened at your chest area. He finally snapped out of the trance. He turned his skull away from you and to his brother, head down.

"Y-yes brother. I think that would be rather nice…" He looked up at you, a sweet grin on his skull.

God, you were so good at pitching tents. You got both of them, too. You mentally applauded and stood. "I'll take five crates. It was a pleasure doing business with you." You turned to leave but was surprised when you heard the taller one speak again.

"Shall we have a drink to celebrate out new partnership?" He asked, an orange tinge still dusting his malar. You simply smiled, opened and opened the door to the exit and said, "Sorry, bank's closed." And walked out, you men trailing. Papyrus stood disappointed, while Sans, on the other hand, was laughing his tailbone off. God, Paps was son inexperienced.

"Look, bro, it's ok. The girl is a freaking hard-ass. You'll get her next time." Sans stood up. "Time to get some shut-eye anyway."

You woke the next morning refreshed, staring up at the ceiling past your canopy. The shipment of submachine guns was to pick up later this afternoon. You got up, taking a bath the putting your clothes on. You had another deal later, regarding buying a lot of warehouses in UnderLights. It would be a two-hour trip, so you ordered your men to grab your checkbook. It was a human client this time, so you used a check. Monsters had yet to receive rights to use banks. You didn't think it was necessary to give them a hassle by handing them a check. The monster race had done nothing to harm you, so why would you put them through that, it would be unjustified.

You stepped down the stairs, hunger tugging your stomach to the kitchen. You took off your dress coat and rolled up your sleeves. You would have to leave by seven if you were to make it to the warehouse deal. You ate breakfast, making it to your garage and calling your driver saying that you were driving to UnderLights.

"And if our crew isn't back in four hours you-"

"I need to send backup. Boss, you've told me this before." your driver rolled his eyes and you smiled. You looked to your car, but then swerved around and his your driver square in the face with your fist. He fell to the ground, cursing.

"Don't you ever fucking assume that I'll be fine with back talk because I'm a woman." You nodded to James. You couldn't have vengeful bastards coming after you today. You stepped into the back seat of your Packard when you heard James pull the trigger on your past driver.

Since the driver thing didn't work out, you told your second hand, James to stay here. He nodded. Always loyal, that man. You had slept with him once or twice, though. You couldn't really remember.

When you had gotten done with the deal, you drove to the shipment warehouses back in Ebott city. It was a beautiful drive through the country, tall green trees flew past you. You hummed and decided to strike up a conversation with the Knight Knight in the front seat. "How's the wife? Kids?" You could visibly notice how he stiffened.

"Actually, I don't have a wife. My girlfriend's swell, though. But she doesn't like that I'm a Johnson Brother. No offense."

"None was taken. What she like?" You drew out a long breath from your cigar.

"Well, she is a human. I mean, that's why I was so nervous when you threw that party. I had a plus one, but I was nervous that people would judge. Are you alright with that?"

"Of course! William, that's great! This racist world is making progress. And, it's your life. I have no say in what goes on in it. So, how long have you been dating her?" You were really enjoying talking with William. He seemed like he deserved a nice life. You pondered if you should set him up. A woman likes a man with money.

You reached the warehouses, the two skeletons from before, Sans and Papyrus, stood observing the load. You nodded to them as you stepped out of your car.

"How are you doing?" You asked before someone held a gun to your head.


End file.
